don't take the money
by rainingroses05
Summary: "Isn't that what everything's about? Her goddamn abandonment issues and the lingering fear that someday she'll wake up in the middle of the night and reach for Max's hand and she won't be there?"


The sound of rain roars in Chloe's ears. Outside the window, the sky is dark and starless, a blurry haze of water. Thunder booms loudly, and Chloe instinctively reaches across the bed to touch Max's shoulder, stroke her hair, tell her that she's safe. Then she remembers with a sharp pang in her chest that Max is still in the other room, probably sitting on their ratty old couch, determined not to move until Chloe apologizes.

She can hear Max's voice ringing in her head, sharp and quiet and flooded with emotion. That's the worst part. Max can never manage to sound completely cold, and Chloe can always catch the anxiety and concern and _disappointment_ bleeding into her voice. She hates it. She hates hurting her.

 _"Why didn't you just talk to me instead of going out and doing something stupid?"_

She hates the thought of Max sitting up and worrying about her, staring at the door and waiting for it to swing open, creaking on its old hinges.

But all of the words she can think up to describe the aching, paralyzing fear sort of feeling deep in her chest are so bitter on her tongue. So, they stay there, lodged in the back of her throat, until she can't breathe and she has to wash them down with something stronger. Stay out too late, make your girlfriend worry kind of stronger.

She stands, smoothing the Chloe-shaped indent out of the comforter, and stumbles into the kitchen, flicking lights on as she goes. "Max?"

There's a mumbled reply from the couch where Max sits with her legs tucked up to her chest, chin resting on her knees.

Chloe wordlessly sits down beside her, keeping a safe distance between them.

"You can't just stay out so late and never tell me when something's bothering you and wander around at _night_ in the _rain._ " Max's gaze flicks up to Chloe's still wet hair. She rubs at her eyes.

"I came home when it started raining." Chloe winces.

" _Chloe_."

"Sorry."

"I just want you to talk to me."

Chloe shifts on the couch, looking down. The space between them suddenly seems unbearably wide, and she moves slightly to close a bit of the gap.

"You wait to tell me anything until it's in some giant outburst about everything I've done wrong in the past _five years_ or something."

"That's not-"

"Chloe, you have to trust me enough to tell me things. Why are you so afraid to?" Max asks softly, and she stares at her with those desperate, pleading eyes that make Chloe almost want to lay her soul bare on the coffee table just to get Max to stop looking at her _like that._

"It's not that. I trust you."

"I'm always here for you, Chloe. And I'm always going to be."

"Well, people tend to say that and then just fucking _leave."_ The words slip out before she can bite them back. "I'm not talking about _you_ , I-"

"Is _that_ what this about?"

Isn't that what everything's about? Her goddamn abandonment issues and the lingering fear that someday she'll wake up in the middle of the night and reach for Max's hand and she won't be there?

"I'm _never_ going _anywhere_ , Chloe." Max unfolds from the tight ball she's curled into and closes the space between them, lacing their fingers together. "Never again."

"I didn't mean you. I meant…" She pauses, waiting for the right words. There aren't any. She wants to explain the unreasonable fear of being alone that curls up in her chest at night, even though she should be used to it. She wants to tell her that she _knows_ Rachel and her dad didn't _choose_ to leave her but that love and loss are too twisted together inside her to pull apart.

"I know what you mean."

"I'm sorry." Chloe sniffs and swallows the lump in her throat, squeezing her eyes shut. She shivers at the feeling of Max's fingertips on her cheek.

Max's hand slides down to Chloe's, and she laces their fingers together. "I know. It's okay. We're okay."

Sometimes Chloe thinks she's put all her love into things that have slipped out of her grasp, but then there's _Max,_ who is so real and _here_ and holding her hand, and _god,_ she loves her.

Thunder rumbles in the distance, and Max shuts her eyes, resting her head on Chloe's shoulder.

Chloe squeezes her hand and tells her that everything's fine, that storms always pass.


End file.
